


Ashes to Ashes

by officialsarahjay



Series: Interstate [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Dramedy, Drug Addiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialsarahjay/pseuds/officialsarahjay
Summary: Sequel to my previous fic, "It's Not a Fashion Statement...". New road trip, now with 100% more Diego.
Series: Interstate [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982200
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been plodding away at this for some time, and I'm just now getting around to posting it whoops. Fair warning: I doubt I'll be updating this as quickly as I would like, as I'm about to start NaNoWriMo20. So I do recommend subscribing for updates!
> 
> Also: I'm sarah.jay on NaNo if you want to say hi!

**1994**

Reginald Hargreeves kept everything.

From the moment the children could hold artistic implementations, he began to keep everything. Every drawing, every page torn from coloring books, every scribble left in the margins of notebooks. He kept everything, and not out of love for his children, no. Rather, he theorized that the scribbles and scrawl would reveal more about each child’s ability.

And he would pour over each piece, searching for their meanings.

“What’s this?” Reginald asked one sunny morning, and tapped a white sheet of copy paper that was already half-filled with manic black scratches. Even more curious was a pile of six identical sheets – all white copy paper, with black clouding every inch of surface – sitting in a haphazard pile next to little Number Four.

Early on, Reginald had noticed that this was how Number Four expressed his inner world during craft time. Ever since he could hold a crayon, his crafts amounted solely to black scribbles on white paper. He never used the finger paints, glitter glue or colored markers used in the crafts produced by his six siblings. No, his medium of choice was black crayon, to produce pages and pages of waxy black paper. Reginald had collected nearly three reams of tarry blackness over the years and dutifully locked them away in Number Four’s filing cabinet.

Number Four swiveled his giant green eyes toward Reginald. He dropped his crayon – brand new thirty minutes ago but now reduced to a nub – and with the same wide eye expression, he said matter-of-factly “it’s everything” before carefully returning to his scribbling.

Reginald collected the six finished sheets and later locked them away with the rest.

Everything, indeed.

**2018**

“Stay cool,” Allison Hargreeves said. To her left, Diego Hargreeves scoffed and stared ahead, his wrist draped over the steering wheel of a nondescript silver SUV.

“What are you talking about, I was born cool.”

The pair sat in silence for a handful of minutes, staring straight ahead at the massive medical complex sprawled before them. One of the best mental health facilities in the Pacific Northwest or something. Allison couldn’t remember. It may have had nothing to do with mental health anyway.

“So, are we supposed to go in?” Diego asked, and Allison hushed him with a wave of her hand.

“He said he would meet us outside,” she replied.

And so they continued to count the minutes. Tick tick tick.

After what felt like an eternity, Allison perked up at the sight of her _other_ brother, ambling toward their nondescript silver SUV idling in park. This brother was wearing a patchwork of things, and none of them black (for once): faded bell bottom jeans that hung just a little too low around the waist and with bells that dragged behind him as he walked. A white fitted tank top that only accentuated the low rise of the jeans. And

“He has my Gucci kimono!” Allison exclaimed with disbelief, as she pulled down her oversized sunglasses to get a better look.

“Didn’t you say you gave that to him?” Diego asked.

“Not officially!”

Allison pushed her glasses back onto her face before reaching down and quickly turned the window crank. She was about to say her piece when Klaus Hargreeves shoved though the opening and leaned half in before planting a loud, wet kiss to Allison’s lips.

“Hello lovely!” he exclaimed. He looked over at Diego and scrunched his nose. “I don’t think I want to kiss you,” he said with uncertainty.

“That’s fine by me!” Diego shot back. Klaus responded by squirming over Allison and pawing for Diego, before pulling him in for a loud, wet kiss of his very own, pressed squarely to the side of his face.

“Oh, you stupid motherfucker!” Diego hollered, as Allison groped blindly for her recliner handle in a futile bid to create some space in the cabin.

“Get off of me!” she shouted.

“I’m stuck!” Klaus squeaked, back legs see sawing. He managed to shimmy out of the window (and halfway out of his tank top) before falling flat on his ass. “That was fun,” he added, as he readjusted his top. At least no one could say he couldn’t make an entrance.

“Well congratulations,” Diego barked once the three finally got settled, and displaying to everyone that he had no idea what he was talking about when he said he was born cool. “You managed to finally go and get yourself locked up in the nut house.”

“That’s discriminatory, we do not call it the nut house,” Klaus said with an air of superiority.

“Whatever! Was it the LSD? Did it finally do a number to your brain?”

Klaus scoffed and crossed his arms.

“I haven’t used LSD in years, alright?”

“Diego...” Allison warned.

“Allison, I don’t know if I can spend a week in a car with this guy!”

“ _Hallo_ ,” Klaus said from the backseat with a wave.

“You offered to drive!”

“Only because I found out you were giving him access to drugs and booze while you were _taking him to rehab_.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the whole of the vehicle. Klaus attempted to break the silence by drumming the beat of Barbie Girl on his thighs with his palms but it fell flat – not even Allison was cultured enough to pick up on it.

“Am I _really_ the only one who won’t kowtow to his bullshit?” Diego wondered aloud.

“Alright then, I have an idea,” Klaus said amiably. He leaned into the center console and dropped a white paper bag into Diego’s lap. “That’s everything they gave me on the inside – you can hold onto it if it makes you feel better.”

“What, you want me to be your nurse and dole out your pills? Fine by me,” Diego scoffed. He tore the bag open and examined the three bottles rattling around the bottom. “I’ll hold onto these, you keep the rest,” he said, tossing the two antidepressant bottles behind him and pocketing the third.

“What’s that?” Allison pried.

“Suboxone.”

“And how is that getting refilled?”

“Why do you think I’m going home?” Klaus interjected, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got this _whole_ thing waiting for me, pre-arranged by the hospital, you wouldn’t care about any of the details they would bore you to tears – ”

“Can I see them?” Allison asked in a clipped tone.

“No, I’d rather that be me,” Diego said, casting a suspicious glance at his sister.

“Yeah, we recognize HIPAA in this household?” Klaus said bitchily. Diego closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nostrils.

“For the love of God...” he exhaled through clenched teeth. He turned to face Klaus. “Starting right now I need you to be completely honest with me, because I’m not Allison alright? I don’t fold to you when you bat your eyes at me, I’m immune to that bullshit, alright?”

“Oh, fuck you Diego,” Allison groaned.

“I never gave him drugs and booze,” Diego said, his eyes fixed on Klaus while pointing at Allison. He turned to point his finger at Klaus. “So you’re going to tell me why you got locked up for ninety days, and you’re going to give me that thick ass file you’re sitting on, alright?”

“Children under sixty inches require a booster seat.”

“AND?”

“I need the file in lieu of a booster seat, obviously.”

Diego clenched his jaw before lunging toward Klaus, forgetting that he was pinned in place by his seatbelt.

“Alright! Alright! Allison, he’s your mess to deal with, feel free to keep him as intoxicated as you want since I’m the only one that cares about seeing him clean!”

“And where do you think you’re going?!” Allison sputtered.

“Airport! I’m done, he’s yours!”

“I was depressed!” Klaus loudly interjected. A brief silence fell over the siblings before Diego repeated “you were depressed?” with some measure of speculation.

“I was depressed,” Klaus said with a nod.

“So they kept you for three months,” Diego said, with the same suspicion.

“I need constant coddling and attention, I can’t achieve orgasm without it,” Klaus said. Diego grimaced.

“You have a terrible way with words,” he said. Klaus waved a hand in disregard. Diego exhaled and slammed both palms against the steering wheel before folding his hands around it. “Fine. Fine. I won’t look at that file so long as you remain honest with me. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Klaus said, flashing an okay.

Diego whistled low and relaxed his shoulders.

“This is going to be a long trip,” he moaned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover Diego has very strong feelings about pretty much everything thus far and the trip then takes an expected detour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this'll be my last update for a month, because starting in a few days is NaNoWriMo20 and I'm pretty much going to devote my life to that. It'll be the least insane thing I do in 2020.
> 
> This won't be abandoned, I promise!

The three months Klaus spent in the drizzly Pacific Northwest had come as both a blessing and a curse. He discovered around six weeks into his hospitalization that his combo of meds made it difficult, if not impossible, for intrusive apparitions to appear. Then he realized that he hadn’t seen Ben for some time, so he called out for him and...well…

Ben didn’t come.

And Ben _always_ came when Klaus called.

So Klaus tried. In what he could argue was perhaps the first time in his life, he legitimately tried to use his ability to call for Ben. He just didn’t know how to, exactly. It wasn’t like anyone had told him how! So he tried _everything_ he could think of to calm his mind and reach out to Ben. He tried visualization. He tried meditation. He even tried medication, when he gave a nurse the world’s least enthusiastic handjob in exchange for enough Benadryl to allow him to maybe _hallucinate_ Ben.

But then the nurse lost his job and Klaus had to go into psych ward time out before he had enough Benadryl to, well...properly hallucinate.

But Klaus wasn’t going to let his failure to summon Ben deter him, no sir. If anything, he would try harder. And so, from his cozy spot in the back row of the nondescript silver SUV, he wrung his hands and exhaled shortly before closing his eyes and picturing Ben. Sweet Ben, loyal Ben. His partner in crime, his player number two.

He scrunched his face in concentration, forcing everything he had into focusing on his favorite sibling in the hopes that Ben would just fucking _appear_. But it was useless, like rabbit ears on a television set. He couldn’t see the picture through the static, no matter how many times he tried adjusting the antenna.

And besides, force often came with unintended consequences.

“Awaahh!” Diego groaned, as he reached for the window crank. “You’re fucking nasty!”

“ _Entschuldigung_ _,_ _”_ Klaus trilled, but he wasn’t sorry. Because if Ben were here, Ben would laugh. Ben always laughed at farts because Ben was a man of culture.

“Oh God,” Allison muttered with disgust. She reached into her heavy designer bag and retrieved a small bottle of perfume, spritzing twice into the air.

“Put that away, it’s making it smell more like ass in here!”

Klaus bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle his giggles.

Oh, if only Ben were here.

*

The route back home had been carefully planned, Allison has explained with a grin, to ensure that each night would be spent at the nicest hotels she could find. Klaus couldn’t remember the details, he hadn’t exactly been paying close attention to anything either of his siblings may or may not have said while his mind was fixated on Ben and the lack of.

“Because I want to make this _fun_ ,” she had explained, as she animatedly moved her hands. “Because I’m just so _proud_ of you! You’re taking your recovery so _seriously!_ We can order room service, get massages, facials, whatever you want! Because I’m just so _proud_ of you!”

“Alright, let’s not cash any checks we can’t spend,” Diego warned, and inwardly Klaus agreed, because if the last road trip proved anything at all, well, it proved that Klaus has a particular knack for sniffing out premium smack. What Allison and Diego saw as a chichi hotel, Klaus saw as an opioid den; a smorgasbord of all-you-can snort, shoot, and rail!

So once the three living Hargreeves had checked in at the first of the many five star accommodations Allison had picked, Klaus slipped away, tossed his antidepressants into the trash, and took the elevator straight up to the very top floor where he had a feeling he was about to come into some very clean tar.

He rocked on his heels and rapped on his new friend’s door.

“Hiiii,” Klaus chirped the very second the door cracked open. “I’m out of brown sugar and I was hoping you would be neighborly and help me find some more?”

The dealer, a significantly older, significantly larger man that Klaus wouldn’t otherwise be caught dead with, stared at Klaus with a perturbed expression. Klaus rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Do you have heroin or what?”

“I might.”

“Oh goodie!” Klaus clapped his hands excitedly before clearing his throat and leaning forward. “But there is one _winzig_ problem. I don’t have a lot of money on me right now, and I’m not exactly in the position to come up with more. So I was hoping that perhaps...we could come to some sort of an, I don’t know, arrangement?” he asked.

“What kind of an arrangement?”

Klaus bit his lip and smiled.

The older man stood in the doorway, his beady black eyes assessing Klaus, before stepping back and pulling the door open.

Fifteen minutes later and he was back in his own room several stories down, brushing his tongue in a desperate attempt to get the bitter taste of spunk out of his mouth. The dealer was nowhere near his type and going down on him had been a new level of revolting, but horse is horse and now he had two small baggies squirreled away in the watch pocket of his bell bottoms. The dealer even threw in a clean syringe, how nice! All it took was one well-placed finger and zero dignity!

Klaus spit the toothpaste into the sink, careful to avoid his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Because when he looked in the mirror, a brief shock of nausea would roll over him and he didn’t exactly know why.

He shambled out of the bathroom and toward Allison, where she was sitting in bed with her legs stretched out before her. She idly flipped through the channels before turning her attention to Klaus and flashed him a faint smile.

“You were in there awhile, you okay?” she asked with an air of concern. And why shouldn’t she be? She wasn’t the one with a history of overdosing in hotel bathrooms.

“Had to brush my teeth. Dental hygiene is _so_ important to me,” Klaus said dismissively. He climbed into Allison’s bed and flopped his head in her lap, sighing when she sunk her nails into his hair and began lightly scratching his scalp.

“Can I see your arms?” Allison asked after a pause, and Klaus flashed her the pits of his elbows without so much as a huff or an argument. Only when Allison determined that there were no fresh needle marks did she smile more fully, and she nodded toward the brightly colored kandi that adorned her brother’s bony wrist.

“I like your bracelets,” she said.

“Oh these? They were a gift. On my floor there were a pair of bulimics, I called them my Bulimics,” Klaus explained, oblivious to Allison’s discomfort at how carelessly he spoke of their illness. “They adored me, they would follow me everywhere. One day in art therapy they decided to make friendship bracelets for me,” he continued, as he twist his wrist to make the plastic beads jangle. He sighed exaggeratedly. “I’m going to miss my Bulimics.”

“I’m sure they had names,” Allison said.

“I never learned them,” Klaus said. “Did you know that was why I was so late coming out to meet you? I had to say goodbye to my Bulimics and remind them that if they ever wanted to pursue a career in hand modeling, that they should use the handle of a toothbrush to purge, instead of using their pretty little fingers.”

“KLAUS!” Allison shouted, smacking him with enough force to make them both wince. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“A lot, alright?!” he moped. “I’m feeling vulnerable so I made an inappropriate joke; I’m sorry.”

“Why are you feeling vulnerable?” Allison asked as she returned to dragging her acrylics through Klaus’s hair, and he could have died right where he laid, thank you very much. After a moment of uncharacteristic stillness, he murmured a small “I don’t know, post-hospitalization blues I guess.”

Because he couldn’t tell Allison that Ben was gone. He couldn’t tell Allison that he just blew John Goodman’s significantly older, significantly less attractive cousin for two small baggies of heroin, he couldn’t tell Allison –

He couldn’t tell her a lot of things, actually.

“Post-hospitalization blues” would just have to suffice.

“I wish you would be more honest with me,” Allison said gently. Klaus nodded; he wished that too, but what was that old saying about wishing in one hand, spitting in another?

At the door came a thud, a muffled expletive and the rapid “beep beep” of a lock recognizing its key. Seconds later Diego stomped through the foyer, his presence emphasized with the exaggerated crinkling of plastic bags.

“Oh, okay now I see what was so important that neither of you could hear me bangin’ on the door,” Diego complained. He shook the plastic bags, loaded with Chinese take-out to better illustrate his point. “I had to actually put these down – I had to put. them. down – to get my key and let myself in. A real man doesn’t put nothin’ down for nothin’!”

“We would have answered the door eventually,” Allison said, and Diego barked out a single laugh.

“Eventually, that’s rich,” he muttered, shaking his head. He popped open the first brightly-dyed takeout carton and scrunched his nose in confusion. “What the fuck is this?” He turned the open carton toward his siblings, as though they could tell from across the room what lurked inside.

“Chicken?” Klaus asked unhelpfully. Diego dropped the carton and reached inside one of the plastic bags for the next.

“Looks like shit to me, so come over here and eat your shit!” he barked. He shook his head. “Whose idea was it to get Chinese in Salt Lake City? You think Mormons know how to make proper Chinese? When we get home, remind me to take you guys to this hole in the wall downtown, you’ll never ask for anything else again, especially this fake shit. This supposed to be fried rice? Jesus...”

*

It was the next morning over breakfast when Klaus began to feel a little strange. He noticed that when he turned his head, his eyes would feel as though they were spinning in their sockets before snapping into place. Strange, but not out of character. After all, Klaus was used to his body reacting in a variety of unpleasant ways when he was jonesing for...well, whatever he was jonesing for.

“I think I need a mimosa,” he muttered.

“No, what you need is orange juice. Regular orange juice. And Jesus,” Diego said.

But the spinning only intensified as the morning progressed. Before too long, the spins would be accompanied by a curious shock, shooting through the middle of his brain. He held his palms flat against his temples as though _that_ would keep his poor brain from twirling off its stem, but surprise surprise it did jack shit.

“Are you alright?” Allison asked as the trio piled into their nondescript silver SUV.

“I feel great!” Klaus exclaimed, and his brain responded with a jerk that gave him internal whiplash. Perhaps throwing away his antidepressants had been a bad idea after all! But without Ben to serve as his moral compass, why, he was susceptible to making impulsive decisions, ceasing selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors cold-turkey being one of them!

A hundred miles later came Diego’s turn to ask “you doin’ okay back there?”, and Klaus giggled an uneasy “fine, I’m fine,”, although he wasn’t exactly sure how much of it Diego got, considering that he was bent in half with his head between his knees.

“I don’t know man, it looks like you might have forgotten to take your crazy pills this morning.”

“Diego, stop calling them crazy pills! They’re legitimate medication!” Allison snapped.

“No, he’s right, they’re crazy pills,” Klaus muttered into the car seat. “I mean, this is crazy.”

“Okay, but once Eudora missed a dose, and she told me she felt like electricity was jerking through her brain – ”

“Eee-yeep,” Klaus agreed.

“Really, those things are fuckin’ awful, maybe you should try getting off of them – ”

“Diego, I refuse to believe you’re qualified to give anyone medical advice!” Allison interrupted.

“All I’m sayin’ is maybe Tom Cruise is right.”

“God, and next you’re going to come out and say vaccines are dangerous,” Allison muttered, shaking her head. And after a pause, Diego began with a small “I mean, but when you follow the money...”

“Dude, for real, are you okay?” Ben gently asked from his spot in the back seat, right next to Klaus. And Klaus groaned and nodded his head.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he moaned. “’m just carsick Ben, so don’t you worry your precious little head over it.”

Klaus lifted his head and glanced up at Ben. Sweet Ben. The marshmallow fluff to his peanut butter. Then, he leapt back against the door and spat out a loud “ _Verflucht noch mal!_ ”, causing Diego to jerk the wheel.

“What the fuck was that about?!” Diego shouted.

“Oh, I accidentally saw my reflection but we’re okay now!” Klaus lied. Diego glowered at him from the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, do something like that again and see what happens,” he growled impotently.

“Dude?” Ben interjected. Klaus raised a finger at Ben; one second.

“Does anyone have a notebook?” Klaus asked, changing the subject. Allison bent forward and pawed through the heavy designer bag sitting by her feet.

“Pretty sure I do, why?”

“The scenery has inspired me to finally write my autobiography, with most of the details being heavily lifted from the life of Anna Nicole Smith. Actually, I’m just going to write about Anna Nicole Smith,” Klaus said as he took a small spiral notebook from Allison. She stared at him quizzically.

“That’s...nice, I guess,” she said.

“Dude!” Ben interjected forcefully. Klaus huffed and began writing quickly, in a truncated language to get his point across as rapidly as possible: “Ive been trying 2 call u for mnths! What the fuck????”

Ben shrugged exaggeratedly.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you!”

Klaus scratched through the first line and underneath that, wrote “it was prb the zoloft and wellbutrin but I threw them away so its ok!”

“No,” Ben said gravely. “That’s not okay.”

Klaus scratched through the second line. Underneath that, scrawled “don’t care its done bsides I missed u”

“I missed you too, but you need to get those medications back.”

Klaus wrote a single “no.” Then, after a pause, he followed up with “let me tell u bout my bulimics!”.

Ben blinked quickly and bent closer to the notebook to get a better look.

“Your...what?” he asked.

Before Klaus could take graphite to paper and regale Ben with tales of the two girls he managed to strike a sort-of friendship with behind the doors of the massive medical complex he was housed in – one of the best mental health facilities in the Pacific Northwest or something – his brain decided to somersault right out of his ears.

This simply had to _cease_.

“Oh fuck me, fuck _all_ of this! Hey Diego, can we stop here? I need to pee!” Klaus barked.

“C’mon man, you just pissed,” Diego groaned.

“I need to take a shit too,” he added, and Diego groaned louder.

“Keep that shit to yourself!”

“Literally can’t do that Diego. That’s why I need you to stop here.”

“God damn it,” Diego grumbled.

*

“They say everyone has a different vision of rock bottom, in that your picture of what rock bottom looks like and my picture of what rock bottom looks like are two very different pictures,” Klaus said sagely, as he tied off his arm with his bootlace. “So while _you_ may think that shooting up in a gas station bathroom is rock bottom, I would argue that we’ve only just scratched the surface. You and I both agree I can take this into much deeper places.”

“I guess,” Ben said. “Are you really going to do that right in front of me?”

“Ten-four good buddy!” Klaus exclaimed. He worked the needle under his skin and exhaled through his teeth as he pushed down on the plunger. “I didn’t ask you to follow me into the bathroom, yet you did, and here we are!”

“How long were you sober again?”

“Ninety-two days,” Klaus groaned, zipping his kit back into a black pouch and stuffing it into the bottom of the monogrammed Goyard tote Allison had folded away at the foot of her luggage. Finders keepers and the tote was his now and he would draw a K over the A! “And it was such a nightmare, I never want to do it again.”

“You were sober ninety-two days?” Ben asked. “Aren’t you even a little heartbroken over that?”

“Nope!” Klaus said cheerfully. “I had brain zaps to kill. And besides, heroin is natural, it’s derived from poppies. It’s medicine straight from Mother Earth, as God intended. Now, how do I look?”

“Not like you just shot up in a gas station bathroom, if that helps.”

Klaus slung the tote over his shoulder and smiled.

“I missed you so much, my little marshmallow fluff,” he cooed.

“If that’s your new nickname for me, I hate it,” Ben said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the siblings stop off in Colorado, because when in Colorado do as the Coloradoians do. Or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm taking a break from NaNoWriMo20 to upload this chapter. As of this posting I'm a little over 44,000 words on my project and...I had this chapter finished actually, before NaNo began. I think I need something else to look at.
> 
> Enjoy, and again this isn't abandoned, not like anything else I've written. Just on a short break until after November!

“You know,” Diego drawled, his fingers drumming the steering wheel rhythmically. “Colorado is a beautiful state. Just beautiful.”

  
  


“So beautiful,” Klaus agreed.

  
  


“World class,” Diego continued. “With some of the nicest accommodations in the United States – no, the world.”

  
  


“I guarantee Denver has a few hotels that rival, if not surpass, the Four Seasons,” Klaus said with a nod. “And I fucking _l_ _ooove_ the Four Seasons. Did you know I once shared a plate of coke with Lindsay Lohan at the Four Seasons?”

  
  


“Oh, dish?” Allison interjected. Diego waved a hand dismissively.

  
  


“Why don’t we save that story for when we visit one of Colorado’s many fine dining establishments?” he asked. Finally, Allison turned to Diego and cast him a curious glance.

  
  


“Diego, can I ask what the fuck?” she asked. “Why do you sound like the Colorado Tourism Board oh my God you both just want to buy weed.”

  
  


“No, we want to appreciate Colorado’s natural splendor!” Diego exclaimed.

  
  


“Hooray nature!” Klaus chirped unhelpfully from the backseat.

  
  


“Yup, you both want weed.”

  
  


“I miss weed,” Ben said sadly, and Klaus glanced over at Ben and pouted empathetically.

  
  


“Allison, I’m shocked!” Diego exclaimed again. “You know it’s irresponsible to expose dumbass back there to weed and besides I have my MMJ card, I can get weed anytime I want back at home.”

  
  


“Wait, you actually have your MMJ card?” Allison asked, arching a brow. Diego nodded.

  
  


“Yup, I walked in and they practically handed it to me,” he said. “No lie I think the state went ahead and printed off six for us in advance, no questions asked. All we gotta do is show up at the health department and go “hi, we’re Reginald Hargreeves’ kids!” and they’re all “say no more fam, we got you”.”

  
  


“Huh,” Allison vocalized, before turning her attention back to her acrylics.

  
  


“So I have a question,” Klaus began. “Let’s say the state did hypothetically print six cards for us already. And let’s say you have an MMJ card with another state, a state you live in full time. Would you still qualify for the card back home?”

  
  


“Why, you have one too?” Diego asked, and Klaus shook his head.

  
  


“No, but Allison does. From the state of California.”

  
  


Allison’s eyes widened and she immediately turned in her seat to face Klaus.

  
  


“What the hell? Is that my – HOW DID YOU GET MY WALLET?”

  
  


“Nuh-uh my question first. Why does your birth day say October 1, 1991?” Klaus pulled the driver’s license from the Louis Vuitton wallet sitting open in his lap, and he began laughing. “Your driver’s license says 1991 too! What the hell, did you really fucking lie about your age?”

  
  


“Give those back!”

  
  


“No, this is interesting,” Klaus said, setting the MMJ card and the license aside as he rifled through the wallet’s contents. “Oh my, dear, no, never leave condoms in wallets it compromises the latex, and Claire doesn’t want a sibling yet.”

  
  


“KLAUS!”

  
  


“So does this mean we can stop in beautiful Colorado?” Diego asked.

  
  


Allison crossed her arms and huffed angrily.

  
  


*

  
  


“Clear?”

  
  


Ben huffed and crossed his arms.

  
  


“I hate it when you’re like this,” he pouted. Klaus hushed him with a short “shh”.

  
  


“C’mon, I need a top off. Are we clear?”

  
  


Ben sighed a low “clear”, and with that Klaus made quick work of shooting up, having found just the right spot on his inner thigh. He realized only after the fact that he was going to need to start practicing far more discretion if he were to continue on this road trip. After all, to his siblings he was still clean and sober, ninety-something days and counting, and he had to maintain the charade.

  
  


Allison may ask to see his arms again, and if she did, he already had a convincing lie stored in his back pocket to explain the faint pinprick in the hollow of his left elbow. But Allison would never think to check anywhere else for track marks, and certainly not his inner thigh.

  
  


The inevitable abscess wouldn’t be worth it, Klaus thought to himself, but desperate times called for desperate measures and he was desperate for this hit.

  
  


“You know what, Ben? I hate it when I’m like this too,” Klaus sighed as he pulled up his jeans. Once he had tucked his gear away, he shuffled out of the bathroom, toward the balcony where Allison and Diego were waiting around a wooden table with joints they picked up from a dispensary in Denver.

  
  


“I love weed, don’t get me wrong, but I’m starting to feel like you, Allison,” Diego said wearily.

  
  


“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Allison shot.

  
  


“Aww, Diego actually thinks he’s culpable,” Klaus cooed. He collapsed into the large, plush chair immediately to the right of Allison. “Relax, this isn’t enabling.”

  
  


“It’s giving you drugs,” Diego said flatly.

  
  


“A drug so benign I literally never fiend for it,” Klaus said assuredly. “No, Allison was _totally_ enabling me last year by buying me alcohol, this is nothing.”

  
  


“HEY!” Allison barked. “You told me you were tapering! I believed you!”

  
  


“Never believe an addict, dear,” Klaus sighed.

  
  


“Man, do you remember how the three of us used to sneak out to smoke a little grass in the park when we were kids?” Diego asked before lighting the first joint. His expression changed to one of faraway contemplation. “Ben used to come along with us.” He shook his head. “Damn, I miss Ben.”

  
  


“I miss you too,” Ben said sadly. Klaus glanced at Ben, then fixed his attention on Diego.

  
  


“I’m sure he misses you too,” Klaus said. “In fact, I’m certain he does.” Diego passed the joint to Allison before giving Klaus a curious look.

  
  


“Do you think...? Nah. Forget it.”

  
  


“No, what?”

  
  


“I mean, if it’s not too weird...”

  
  


“Do you wanna get high and hold a séance?” Klaus asked, the corners of his lips twitching mischievously.

  
  


“Ohh!” Allison exclaimed, as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. She coughed lightly, passed the joint to Klaus, and clapped her hands. “Like when we were fifteen!”

  
  


“Wait, you two would get high and talk to the dead?”

  
  


“So I might have watched The Craft with Allison and she might have had a witch phase because of it,” Klaus said.

  
  


“Most girls have a witch phase, it’s practically our birthright,” Allison said defensively.

  
  


“I’m just upset that you guys never invited me to your weed and dead people parties,” Diego pouted.

  
  


“Well, we’re having one right now and you’re invited!” Klaus exclaimed. He wrung his wrists and exhaled shortly. “Yeah, I’m willing to act as Ben’s mouthpiece. Just give me a second.” And he closed his eyes and took a few dramatic breaths before saying out loud “yup. Ben’s here.”

  
  


Ben grinned.

  
  


“You’re the best,” he said to Klaus, and Klaus nodded, his eyes still closed.

  
  


“I am the best. Ben thinks I’m the best,” he explained aloud.

  
  


“Wait, Ben’s here? Right now, on the balcony?” Diego asked. “Dude, I’m not high enough for this yet.”

  
  


“Um duh, I can summon the dead, it’s literally the only thing I do?” Klaus replied.

  
  


“Well...” Allison began, with a note of disbelief.

  
  


“I mean, there was that one time — “ Diego said over Allison, and Klaus raised his palms at both of his siblings. Stop.

  
  


“LITERALLY THE ONLY THING I CAN DO,” he shouted over the cacophony.

  
  


“But how do I know Ben’s here? Is there a way you can prove it?” Diego asked.

  
  


“You don’t trust me? Okay, stupid question.” Klaus slapped his thighs with his palms and sighed. “Alright. Ben. Do something to prove that you’re here.”

  
  


“You got it!” Ben chirped agreeably. He reached for the opened can of La Croix sitting directly across from Allison in an attempt to slap it, only to watch his hand pass through the can, through the table, and back around to his own knee again.

  
  


“Well fuck,” Ben moaned. “Never mind, I don’t know how to help you.”

  
  


“Ben said fuck you, make me,” Klaus lied. Ben’s jaw dropped.

  
  


“I would never!” he gasped.

  
  


“I believe it. Hi, Ben!” Diego said. “Wait, where is he? Should I...look? Is it rude to not make eye contact?”

  
  


“What?” Klaus asked. “There is no etiquette for ghosts.”

  
  


“Yes there is,” Ben said. Klaus hushed him with a wave of his hand.

  
  


“So is he right there?” Allison asked in a whisper, pointing to the empty space where Klaus had waved his hand. Klaus bobbed his head.

  
  


“Give or take. Now are we gonna have a séance or are we going to talk about it?”

  
  


“No, I want a séance,” Diego huffed after taking a monster pull from the joint. “Holy shit, I’m starting to feel it. Allison?”

  
  


Allison nodded heavily and smiled, taking the joint delicately from Diego’s fingers. “A little,” she hummed. Meanwhile, Ben clapped like a Jolly Chimp toy.

  
  


“This is amazing, I’m going to actually catch up with Allison and Diego!” he exclaimed, beaming. “Klaus, why don’t you ever tell them you talk to me? We could do this more often!”

  
  


“I’ve tried, they don’t believe me,” Klaus said.

  
  


“Believe what?” Diego asked.

  
  


“Nothing. Alright, who wants to be the first to ask Ben a question?”

  
  


“Do ghosts masturbate?” Diego blurted, and Allison groaned loudly.

  
  


“Of all the questions you could ask, that’s your first?!” she asked.

  
  


“It’s a legitimate question!” he shouted defensively.

  
  


“Oh, no,” Ben said sadly. “Because I’m dead.”

  
  


“Ben said all the time. In fact, ghosts can also regularly seduce the living. It reminds them of being alive. It’s why celebrities tell tabloids they’ve had sex with ghosts. Because they have,” Klaus said with a nod. “Next?”

  
  


“Why am I even here if you’re just going to say the opposite of what I say?” Ben asked.

  
  


“If no one else wants to take this seriously I will,” Allison said with finality as she fiddled with the tamper-safe tube the second joint was housed in. “I hate these stupid things – there!” She tipped the tube and the fresh joint slid into her waiting palm. After discarding the tube and lighting up, she exhaled and said “Ben, I know being dead must be awful, but...are you at least a little happy?”

  
  


“Can you please promise to tell Allison I’m happy for the most part, but I would be happier if you let me talk to her a little more often?” Ben asked. Klaus sighed.

  
  


“Yes Ben, I promise. So, Ben said, and this is a direct quote, “I’m only happy because I can still fuck the living.”

  
  


“That’s...alright, close enough,” Ben demurred.

  
  


“Ben’s not here,” Allison said flatly. “We’re being conned. Diego, want to call up for snacks and watch a cartoon?” she asked, and Klaus slapped his palms on the table and leaned forward.

  
  


“Alright, I’m sorry, I was having too much fun. Ben said he’s happy for the most part, but he misses you and Diego and everyone else except Dad and he wishes I would let him talk to you more often,” Klaus said, his head bobbing rhythmically to what he was saying. “And for what it’s worth, I would channel him more, but I haven’t been invited to a family gathering in...” He began counting his fingers silently before stopping.

  
  


“I’m sure if you keep up with your recovery, Mom’ll pass the invitation along,” Diego said thickly. “Just don’t get loaded and face plant into the turkey. Again.” He propped his elbows up on the table and sighed. “Guys, I think I’m gonna pack this one in, but don’t feel obligated to cut the party short on my account. Goodnight, Ben!”

  
  


“Ben says goodnight and he loves you,” Klaus said in an uncharacteristically small voice, before Ben could say the words himself. If he wanted to be honest, he stopped having fun the second he remembered that he was persona non grata in the Hargreeves household. Not that he could blame them, after all, the last holiday he had spent with his family had well and truly been a nightmare, and had indeed ended with Klaus face planting in the turkey.

  
  


Ah, to be seventeen with only a crippling addiction to alcohol! Life was simpler then.

  
  


“This séance fell apart quickly didn’t it?” Allison asked.

  
  


“Why does it have to be a séance? Why not a conversation?” Ben asked, and Klaus nodded. He took the joint from Allison’s fingers before speaking.

  
  


“Ben says less woo, more conversation,” he said. “Can you manage that or are you getting a little too high?”

  
  


“I’m getting a little too high,” Allison agreed. “Another time? No offense, Ben...but I don’t think I can separate you from Klaus right now.”

  
  


“None taken,” Ben said cheerfully. “It was better than nothing, and it feels nice to finally be included.”

  
  


“Ben says he loves you,” Klaus said instead.

  
  


*

  
  


Allison and Klaus continued to linger out on the balcony, long after Diego had gone to bed. In fact, it was only after Diego had gone in when Allison moved to the fashionably oversized patio chair Klaus was reclining in, nudging him aside so that she could share his spot.

  
  


“I mean, two people can fit if you make it work,” Allison had said, and Klaus was in no mood to argue. If Allison wanted to steal a snuggle, he wouldn’t say no! Before long, the two were comfortably intertwined, while Allison tried to smoke a cigarette.

  
  


“Careful how you blow that smoke, _mein_ _Haustier_ ,” Klaus warned. “You don’t want me getting the wrong idea.”

  
  


“How so?” Allison asked sleepily.

  
  


“I read somewhere that blowing smoke in someone’s face means you wanna — “ And he inadvertently hugged Allison closer as he brought his hands together to make a crude gesture. “And I don’t think you want that.” Allison knit her brows together.

  
  


“I don’t think that’s true,” she said with some hesitation. “Where did you read that?”

  
  


“A book. And you know what, just because you personally never read about something doesn’t mean that it’s any less true,” Klaus said sagely, as he continued to jam his right index finger into the circle he had formed with his left hand.

  
  


“Please stop doing that,” Allison said.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“The thing with your hands. Stop.”

  
  


Klaus grinned.

  
  


“Anything for you,” he purred. Allison leaned across Klaus to extinguish her cigarette in the ash tray before settling back.

  
  


“Is Ben still around?” she asked after a pause.

  
  


“Yes,” Ben said from far away.

  
  


“Mm no he went back to wherever dead people go when they’re not needed any longer,” Klaus said, looking back at Ben. “Because they have better things to do than eavesdrop on the living.”

  
  


“Tell me you want to creep on Allison next time!” Ben huffed before blinking away. Klaus pursed his lips. If Ben thought he was getting the last word, well. He shook his head and caressed Allison’s arm lightly.

  
  


“This is nice,” she sighed against his chest. “I could stay out here all night.”

  
  


“We’ll both freeze to death,” he murmured, as he tightened his arms around her. Allison shrugged.

  
  


“It might be worth the risk.”

  
  


“You have a child.”

  
  


“Oh yeah,” Allison said in a faraway voice. She glanced up at Klaus beguilingly. “What if I brought out a blanket?” Klaus laughed out loud.

  
  


“Oh? Alright, if you insist,” he said with a grin, and with the grace of a baby giraffe Allison scrambled off of the patio chair, before returning with a fluffy down blanket, freshly liberated from one of the king beds.

  
  


“You’re enjoying this a little too much, aren’t you?” Klaus teased once the two had settled back into the patio chair, snug beneath the piles of white fabric. Allison hummed.

  
  


“Mmm, it’s nice,” she said vaguely, and Klaus briefly smirked up at the moon. Betcha wish you were here now, Space Boy.

  
  


He gazed at the skyline as an uncomfortable feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. And God, did he loathe the uncomfortable feelings that began to developed with more frequency than ever before. Ben had said over and over again that what he was feeling was “guilt”, but Ben was often full of shit, wasn’t he?

  
  


And yet.

  
  


She still believed he was still sober, otherwise she would be inside, fast asleep in her own bed like Diego. And knowing that Allison would never in a thousand years dream of sharing this moment with him unless she believed he was still sober…

  
  


The uncomfortable feeling began to intensify.

  
  


“Allison?”

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


“Would you be out here with me if I weren’t sober?”

  
  


“Let’s just enjoy this, alright?” she said quietly as she nuzzled his collarbone, and there was his answer. He could almost hear Luther’s braying laughter from the moon. Jackass.

  
  


“Allison?”  
  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


“I’m sorry.”

  
  


Allison turned her face to Klaus, her chin resting on the back of her hand. “For what?” she asked.

  
  


“The last fifteen years. Everything.” He freed one arm to rake his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m burned out after all.”

  
  


“At least you can start over. Not very many people can say the same. You’re lucky, you know.”

  
  


“I know.” He paused. “Hey, how high are you right now?” he asked, and Allison shrugged again before carefully untangling herself from her brother and climbed out of the patio chair. She scratched the back of her head before creeping toward the sliding glass door.

  
  


“High enough to call it a night before I do something I’ll regret,” she said. “You coming in?”

  
  


“Yeah, in a second.” Klaus paused. “Wait. Could you clarify?”

  
  


“Clarify what? I’m tired, good night,” she yawned, before stepping through the threshold and pulling the door to.

  
  


“But I wanna know what you meant!” Klaus complained aloud, but if a junkie whines on a balcony and no one is around to hear him, does he make a sound? He sighed and slid back into the patio chair in defeat.


End file.
